


More Things

by jayhood



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (a little), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers to Enemies to Lovers, Getting resolved in the end, Infidelity, Jack goes in the draft, Jack overdoses earlier, Kent and Jack playing on the same team, Kent and Whiskey playing on the same team, M/M, Multi, Unresolved Sexual Tension, basically all three of them playing together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 06:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayhood/pseuds/jayhood
Summary: Spring 2008, right after playoffs, Jack overdoses.Some things stay the same: he finds his friends, his love, and wins a Cup, twice.Some things change. Kent has a little more self-respect, though not a lot, and Connor Whisk just wants to play hockey and have a good time, and he will.
Relationships: Connor "Whiskey" Whisk/Kent Parson/Jack Zimmermann, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Kent "Parse" Parson/Connor "Whiskey" Whisk, Kent Parson/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	More Things

**Author's Note:**

> It was supposed to be a very short PWP scene to take my mind off the other project I'm working on. One day and 13k words later, here it is.

Spring 2008, right after playoffs, Jack overdoses. 

They just won the President's Cup a few days ago. Kent is still in Canada. They are partying. Jack takes too much, takes his pills on the top of it, and some vodka to polish it off. He ends up in the emergency room.

It's okay. His parents tell everyone he had an accident when he was driving home. Everyone assumes he was drunk driving. Nobody makes a big deal out of it. 

Except for his parents. Jack tries to tell them it's the first time he took anything. They don't believe him. They say they know the truth. 

And there's only one person who could have probably told them.

"Get out," he says to Kent when he visits him. "Never come back."

He asks his parents to change his number, and never invite Kent in anymore. They are quick to agree, even though before they were telling Jack how glad they are that he has such a good friend in Kent. Finding out it was Kent who was supplying drugs, at least initially, changes things, Jack muses before forbidding himself to think about Kent anymore.

He doesn't waste his time on "why". He knows why. He feels the same dread with every their win, every their loss, when they are praised or critiqued in the press, or by their coach, or by his dad. Only it made Jack so anxious he wanted to die, and so he started to go heavy on pills, and then he tried alcohol and some pills that aren't on the prescription list. And Kent, it made him set Jack up, apparently. No, maybe not set him up, Kent asked him to stop and tried to take vodka away. But rat him out to his parents.

Because right now, his parents are placing him into rehab. And, whether or not he's going back to Oceanic after that, is under question.

Jack hates it.

He knows, though, that it's his best chance. Go along with the treatment, and therapy, even if it all is just stupid. Consider life outside of hockey. What life? Not the kind he wants. He's almost eighteen, anyway. So if his parents won't change their minds, he will just be living by himself. Kent does, since he became 16. And Jack is just good as Kent is, even better; that was the problem, wasn't it?

Thankfully, it doesn't come to that. Alicia finds a job in NY. They move to the States. Presumably for her career, as an acting teacher. It will be time-consuming enough so living for two countries is not feasible. Alicia wants to spend time with her kid as much as she can before Jack gets drafted and goes who knows where. Bob wants to support his wife as she supported him all these years ago before his retirement. That's the official story.

The real story is, Jack spends summer in rehab, and they don't want to come back to Rimouski where there are all these people Jack was using with (and Kent) and risk a relapse. 

New York is supposed to be a fresh start. It works. Kinda. He's not using anymore and more careful with his medication. He's in therapy still, too.

Kent stays in Canada. And he's forbidden from contacting Jack by his parents, even if Jack did want him to - though he probably doesn't. Kent doesn't know why. Because he didn't stop him in time? Because Kent's the reason he started using in the first place? Kent didn't think it would be a big deal. It never was for Kent himself, though he was careful about it. Didn't want to end up like his father.

He didn't think Jack would almost die because of it.

Long story short, they both are drafted the same year. Kent goes to Vegas, Jack stays in NY.

Their history, plus the rivalry, amped up by the media, plus going second - Jack hates Kent now. Full stop. And he dates girls now, models, singers, actresses, artsy NY types. Where does he even meet them? Kent doesn't know. But he also doesn't care.

Their thing, between them, that they never named, never spoke aloud, was always secondary to Kent. Their friendship came first, and that's what he wants back. No matter who Jack kisses now.

So, after away game, Aces vs Islanders, he goes to Jack, asks if they can hang out. And Jack's shutdown is brutal.

Kent leaves.

At one point in time, in the final game for the Cup, when it's LVA vs NYI, he thinks that if he doesn't throw this game, that's it. They will never come back from it. And he considers it very much. But ultimately, he decides, that if it is really the truth, then it's not worth it.

Aces win.

Life moves on.

Jack finds friends completely by accident.

He comes by his mom's work, she forgot her lunch at home, and Jack wanted to take it to her. She was so busy with the upcoming production. She likes her teaching job but directing, she says, is even better. Jack's glad she got something out of his failure. Like father: Bob now hangs out with some writers and even thinks about writing his memoir. 

When he gets there, Jack can't find his mom. And he kinda stands there awkwardly, until a small girl with black hair notices him standing around doing nothing, mistakes him for a stagehand, and puts him to work.

The girl is named Larissa. She's fun, in a biting way. Over the course of the afternoon, Jack finds out she does know who he is because she follows hockey, but she also doesn't care. She roots for another team. It's actually a pretty great feeling, not hiding that he's him, but also not having someone to make a big deal out of it. It's a very novel feeling outside of his team. So they talk the next time Jack drops by, and the next, and then Lardo invites him over for a beer.

Jack agrees, without thinking. He doesn't even drink beer. But it turns out, neither does Lardo nor her roommates (Shitty - on a pre-law track at NYU, Ransom&Holster, firefighters, and Bitty, who's attending some kind of fancy culinary school in the city) don't make an issue out of it. It's chill, he's told.

Most importantly, they all were hockey players in high school. So it doesn't feel like they're people from another planet. And they all keep the same cool as Lardo does.

And Bitty, Bitty is cute. Too fucking bad Jack's dating a tennis player currently. Or good, actually. For Jack's career.

Because from all of them, Shitty understands him the best, but Bitty, Jack thinks, is still somehow becomes the closest.

Jack notices when Bitty falls in love with him. What he doesn't, is when he managed to fall right back. He just thinks: _"Good thing that Bitty is dating some guy, too"_.

It all comes together a week after Jack totally forgot about Ransom's birthday. He feels awful, even if he bought a gift in advance and had it delivered on the date of. But he was on a roadie, then, and he was so awfully tired, that he never remembered to text him, or checked a message from Bitty with a reminder.

So when Alexei Mashkov's team comes to NY, that's Jack's chance to make things right. It's something that could become unmitigated disaster or a hilarious one, but maybe it will be fine, and in any case, that would cheer Ransom up. So when the game is over, and there's a party where Tater promises to show up to, Jack invites Ransom and the rest of their friends too.

Only Tater is still playing on Aces. A trade is just a matter of time, really, because the level of hostility between Tater and his current captain is very much an open secret. Though nobody knows why. Anyway, it's one of the reasons Jack likes Tater, their mutual dislike of Kent Parson. He's so sure they wouldn't come to the same party...

So he is there, away from the crowd, just talking with Bitty. They're not flirting. They just having fun and making selfies.

That's when Kent shows up.

At first, it's just a casual, " _Sup, Zimmermann, didn't see you there"_ when Kent literally bumps into him, and Kent is ready to move on. And then Kent notices Bitty. 

Who, Jack has to admit, somewhat reminds Kent in his first year in the Q, only in better clothes. And they're standing too close. And there's a flush on their faces.

Kent's grin is ugly. Jack feels _fear_.

And Bitty doesn't notice, chattering away at Kent. Kent indulges him, talking, taking selfies together too, and asking questions about Bitty. How old is he? How did he and Jack meet, what's he doing. Bitty also mentions he played, too, in high school.

"Yeah, I can see that," Kent replies, looking straight at Jack.

And Jack just, can’t deal. He leaves. He goes to the balcony because it’s empty and the air is cold and it helps somewhat to stop from freaking out.

But a few minutes after that, Kent follows him.

“So,” he says, hands in his pocket. “I thought you hated me so much, you couldn’t stand to be even reminded of me. All those questions in interviews you shut down fast. All the photos you have deleted from your social media. And here you are, at a party, with a mini-me.”

“He’s nothing like you,” Jack says heatedly.

Kent hums.

“I guess he isn’t. He’s not a _competition_ . ‘cause you love hockey, but you _hate_ when someone’s better than you at it.”

“Your team lost tonight,” Jack reminds harshly.

Kent shrugs. 

"So we did. Sometimes, things just aren’t going the way you expect them to. I thought, after our first contracts expire, one of us was going to end up signing with the other’s team. But it’s not happening, is it?”

“I’m happy where I am.”

“Are you? I suppose you are. That’s good, then. I’m not. I don’t think I was ever happy playing without you.”

“Too fucking bad,” Jack says. 

Kent looks at him and shakes his head.

“I dunno why I’m still telling you things,” he says. “It’s like - Jack Zimmermann I knew died, and here I am, talking to his ghost, who is one mean son of the bitch.”

“It’s the opposite,” Jack says. “In New York, I started living for the first time. After I _met Bitty_ , I started living.”

It’s what will hurt Kent the most, he thinks. And it’s somewhat true: he met Bitty the same night Lardo crossed the boundary between casual acquaintances and let him meet the rest of their friends, and, he thinks, that’s when he started living. When he realized there’s more to life than hockey, and the guys helped him with that greatly.

Kent grips the railing, looks down. He has this neck you always want to touch with your hands or your lips. Jack’s heart skips a bit. He hates Kent for it.

"Is that it?" Jack can't stand being alone with Kent anymore. "Can you fuck off and leave me alone now before someone notices us here?"

Kent faces him again, sneering. Finally.

“What? Afraid the rumors start up again? I hope it won’t be like that for you and your pie guy.”

Jack wants to deck him right here and now, but Kent goes to the door, and falters in his step - because there’s someone behind the glass; Bitty; what did he see? how much did he hear? - but then continues on. Kent turns his face away from Bitty, getting his snapback on.

Bitty stands, frozen in place, his hand still raised to knock. His eyes are wide. Whatever he saw or heard, it was _enough_. Jack can’t deal. He leaves the party, too.

After, he and Bitty talk. _Bitty_ talks. He apologies for accidentally overhearing stuff that wasn’t his business.

“Only,” he says, looking at Jack and wringing his hands. “Some of it was. Wasn’t it?”

And Jack - agrees. Because it’s true. And somehow, it leads to them kissing. Then, flash forward, they’re dating. Come out to their friends. Jack’s team wins the Cup. Jack and Bitty kiss at center ice.

And Jack is getting traded.

The press is having a field day with it. Since the time he became the captain in his second year in NHL, Kent was questioned. Not his hockey skills, but his leadership skills. Was he too young? Was his personality hindering him from establishing healthy teamwork with other players, like Mashkov, to the point that players who had problems with him, ended up traded (Mashkov again)?

And now, with Zimms getting traded to Vegas, it’s so much worse. “Rivals” are being thrown around a lot in the press. Everyone knows they were best friends before this relationship soured _so_ much, Jack Zimmermann had to change teams because of it. Was it, people question it now, because Kent is homophobic? How they will be able to play together, now, when they can’t stand each other on the ice? Will Kent continue to foster a hostile locker room environment? 

And there’s no other way to get through this except through. Kent grins, assures people he’s excited to play on the same team as Cup-winning Jack Zimmermann, they had great chemistry on the ice at some point in the Q, let’s see if they can’t bring it back. _No_ , he doesn’t have any issue with LGBTQ player on his team, he thinks that _just statistically_ , there _had_ to be at least one LGBTQ player on any team he played ever. _You Can Play_. His relationships with Jack Zimmermann? Well, they were good friends when they played together, but then Jack moved and started playing for another team and they just lost touch, it happens. 

Kent even drives to the airport the day Jack arrives, to pick up him and his boyfriend. It’s not an ambush, Jack was notified by the team’s PR agent that it’s going to happen. Aces want to show from the start that they are inclusive, that their captain, whatever his personal feelings on the matter, is a professional. And for Jack, it would be good too, to smash the impression that he’s unwanted by NHL teams now that he’s out of the closet.

So it’s all-around good optics. _Should_ be.

When Kent gets there and meets Jack and Bitty, Jack’s his usual hockey robot self. Bitty, for all his politeness and smiles, seems different. Seems, to be honest, like he _hates Kent’s guts_ now. Kent is not surprised but disappointed. He just hopes the kid can keep it together and fake it around closer scrutiny.

Kent shows them around and drops them at their hotel, warning them about team dinner tonight. 

“To welcome you properly,” he says. “Help you settle in. Other WAGs would be there too.”

Bitty’s face does a thing. Like, his smile becomes wider, but his eyes are even more murderous. Shit, it's SOAP now, isn't it? So shoot him, Kent thinks. It's not like he had much time to adjust.

“It won't be easy in a hotel room," Bitty says. "But I am sure I can whip something up to bring there."

"No need," Kent shakes his head. "Just relax, get rested. Anyway, we are renting a club so."

"A club," Bitty says flatly. "You shouldn't have gone to all the trouble, clubs are not really our scene. Jack doesn't drink, and he hates loud music and crowds. Or is it how you always welcome new arrivals at Vegas?"

"No, I know he doesn't. And no, usually it's a team dinner at my place. And frankly? I thought this would what Jack preferred, instead."

"Have you tried _asking_ him?"

"I dunno, _Jack_ , would you answer when I call? Well, now you kinda have to. I can’t rely on communicating with you through third parties anymore. It’s bound to raise questions.”

“I bet _you_ wouldn’t want that,” Bitty says. “But Jack doesn’t have secrets anymore.”

“Sure, but it doesn’t mean you guys want to be an even hotter piece of gossip for the whole time you’re here.”

“Won’t be for long! Jack is going UFA in a year.”

“Lotta things can change in a year,” Kent says. “See you tonight, guys.”

He drives away, leaving Jack and his boyfriend behind.

In a way, Bittle is right. Any rumors about anything to do with Kent and Jack are more damaging for Kent at this point. It sucks. He always thought he was going to come out first. Well, he always thought Jack was going to come out _never_ , and Kent after his retirement. Oh well.

The party is a success. Bitty had this anime-character quality where he’s able to charm practically anyone he talks to. Except maybe Carly, but that’s Carl for you. And their newest draft pick, Connor Whisks. When Bitty tries to approach him, the kid just fades into the background. Kent sighs. He hopes Connor is not another Carly. He didn’t think so, when Whiskey was the one he meet and greet-ed yesterday, but...

Kent goes to talk to him.

Whiskey reminds him of the old Jack. Young, talented, a little stand-offish, but just only before you get him to open up. And then you realize he’s just an awkward turtle. It’s cute. 

Kent is relieved, actually, for all of a half a year.

The season starts, they play okay, then they play better, then they play spectacular. Kent, Jack, and Whiskey on the same line? Kent thinks Jack is a lucky bastard to have been traded here just after his first Cup win because now it’s going to be his second in a row. 

Jack obviously doesn’t feel the same. He does start to come to team dinners at Kent’s, eventually. Brings Bitty’s pie, which is _not bad._ Kent says so to Whiskey one time when he notices that he didn’t have a single slice. Jack overhears and takes offense to that. It devolves into a petty argument, with Jack accusing Kent of being able to burn water. Kent is on his last nerve.

“Come on, Jack! I _was a kid_ . I didn’t know _shit_ about shit then. Can you give me a little bit of benefit of a doubt, now? We’re not these kids anymore even if _you_ continue to insist on being stuck on the past.”

“No?” Jack eyes Whiskey, who stands close to Kent. “Don’t you think it’s _you_ who is stuck in the past?”

And Kent follows his gaze and looks at Whiskey, who _yes_ , reminds him of Jack when Kent still was his friend. And maybe he _looks_ a little like Jack too - but only a little.

“ _Oh_ ,” Kent says. “You’ve got some _nerve_ . At least I don’t fuck _your_ little knock-off copy.”

Jack clenches his teeth, his fists, and leaves before he breaks Kent’s nose or something. Whiskey says,

“Ouch.”

Kent rubs his face with a hand. 

“Sorry,” he says, not looking at Whiskey. “You’re _not_ his copy. You are a great player in your own right. And a great person.”

“A great person,” Whiskey says. “Because I have such a boisterous personality.”

“You know,” Kent tries to stop his smile. It’s maybe a little hysterical. “Like all hockey players are famous for.”

They laugh, and it relieves the tension somewhat. Kent risks looking at him. Whiskey is staring right back. Kent sighs and bites the bullet.

“You can ask, you know.”

“It’s not my business.”

“Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. I never had relationships with Jack Zimmermann.”

Whiskey considers it.

“You don’t like each other. Is it because?..”

Kent shrugs. 

“It’s complicated. We were friends, once. Best friends. Then, I messed up, and we weren’t friends anymore. He hates me now, and I hate that he hates me. But no, it’s not because of who he loves.”

“Okay,” Whiskey says, and it’s the end of the conversation.

Jack is seething. He can’t talk about it with anyone except Bitty, because he never told anyone except Bitty about the history between them. Even Bitty, he didn’t tell much. That first time they talked about Kent after Bitty overheard some things, Jack said their relationships were complicated, and they owed each other apologies. The second time they talked, right before (or after, Jack can’t quite remember) they defined their relationships, Bitty was asking about his dating history.

He sounded insecure. Which was strange, because Bitty at that point had more experience than Jack did. At least with men, because first few years in NHL Jack dated women, for a given value of dating. Still, Jack tried to reassure him as much as he could. It wasn't anything _real_ , he explained. They were kids. Just physical. Hockey. That's all. And then they were not even playing together anymore. But Kent is bad at letting things go.

So he didn't tell Bitty _everything_. But he told him enough. So it's Bitty who he talks to about it. He is worried about Whisk. He's worried about Kent getting his claws into the kid.

Bitty then tells him how once, when Aces were celebrating a win, he wanted to find Whiskey just to check on him, Whisk was not even 21, he had quite a lot to drink because he got the game-winning goal. Bitty was worried. He found Whiskey in a bathroom, locking lips with another guy. Whiskey freaked out and run out.

“I’m worried about him, too,” Bitty says, biting his lip. “Maybe we can invite him over? And talk about it? And about Kent?”

It’s maybe a decent thing to do. But can Jack warn Whisk away from Kent without explaining their history?

“I _wonder_ ,” Bitty continues. “Why Tater hates him so much. You think there is a history there, too?”

Jack doesn’t know. They are friends with Tater, now, as much as you can be a friend to a player from a different team. They never played together. But Tater was extremely vocal in his support of Jack and Bitty after they came out. And even twitted that he’s sorry Jack has to play on the same team as Kent now - and then deleted the tweet a few minutes later.

Next time Vegas plays Providence at home, Bitty invites Tater over, and Jack invites Whisk. 

Whisk actually shows up. He’s a little peeved to see Tater there. It’s all good until they broach the Kent topic. Tater is ranting, like he does, about Kent’s rattish tendencies on ice. And how he prefers to execute plays where he’s the one who ends up taking a shot (which was true for quite some time, but not now with Jack and Whisk). And how he cares about his stupid cat more than people.

Whiskey clams right up.

“You don’t really know him, Mashkov,” he says after Tater is done.

And that’s Jack’s cue.

“No,” he says. “Sorry. But it’s _you_ who doesn’t know him. You are playing with him for less than a year. I played with him or against him for almost a decade.”

He sees Bitty and Tater both looking at him. Bitty with worry. Tater with... slow realization of something.

“Oh,” Tater says. “Was _you_.”

He doesn’t elaborate when Jack looks at him questioningly. Just takes another piece of pie and doesn’t look at anyone.

Jack has a suspicion of what it is about.

“ _Playing_ with someone,” Whisk says. “Is not the same thing as _knowing_ someone.”

“We _know_ him,” Jack presses. He is fairly certain that it is the same story with Tater as with him. They were together, and then Kent betrayed him somehow. Tried to sabotage him, maybe, as he did to Jack by telling his parents the overdose wasn’t an accident. That taking drugs wasn’t just that one time. And he got what he wanted, half-way: Jack’s parents moved away so he wasn’t on the same line as Kent anymore. But Kent underestimated his parents. Underestimated _him_ . Jack was still playing the next season. Jack still was drafted. “Do _you_?”

“Thank you for having me tonight,” Whisk says. “The food was great. I can show myself out.”

He leaves the three of them in a glum mood.

“He didn’t even take the pie with him,” Bitty says morosely.

They failed.

When it’s time for Tater to go back to his hotel, Jack is the one to escort him to the door.

“He not listens,” Tater says. He is talking about Whisk, obviously. “Feel bad for him. He will give Kent Parson his game, his heart. He will not receive anything in return.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jack says. _He_ doesn’t, but Tater obviously still feels strongly about it. And Tater is a friend. If you see something is bothering friends, you listen.

“Yes,” Tater. “But maybe not to you. Awkward.”

It puzzles Jack.

“Why? I thought it would help that we have similar stories.”

Tater shakes his head.

“I don’t know you and his story. I doubt it is like mine. Maybe I will talk to Bitty instead. Or Whisk, _after_. Goodbye, Zimmboni.”

Tater leaves, and Jack feels like he’s missing _something_. But Tater indeed talks to Bitty about it - well, and about other things too, they quite often talk nowadays. Jack isn’t sure about what, but it’s nice, Bitty having another friend. Shitty, Lardon, Holster, and Ransom visited once, and they try to conference call each other as often as all their schedules permit. But it’s always nice to have another friend.

Because with other SOAPs, Bitty didn’t have much luck. They mostly are friends with women whose husbands or boyfriends are friends. And Jack isn’t really close to anyone on the team.

It's not because of Kent, per se. Or his orientation. Jack doesn't have the friendliest personality. People have to want to break through his walls, and so far, nobody in Vegas was willing to. It's just usually Bitty's charm melts the ice for him. In the beginning, it seemed like it was working. But then the invitations start to dry up, and people find reasons to decline theirs.

Almost no one is outright hostile. Except for one player. It's not, surprisingly, Carl. Jack was worried about him because he used slurs on ice before and after Jack came to play for Aces. And not Whisk. It’s _Jeff Troy_. And his wife is one of the most socially active WAGs on the team, so it makes sense they made Jack and Bitty personas non grata. Jack just can’t figure out why.

Kent didn’t ask Swoops to be a dick to Zimmermann. In fact, he asked him to tone it down, think about the team cohesiveness, appealed to Scraps so he could talk some sense into Swoops. Scraps asked not to be involved in it. So Kent one time just asks Swoops outright what his problem was. 

“He’s a dick,” his only explanation.

“Yeah, but who isn’t? He scores, at least.”

Swoops tones it down, at least, but still, the general attitude toward Zimmermann is worse than it was at the start of the season, and with them going so strongly this season, Kent just can’t allow it to affect their game. He tries to fix it by inviting them and Scraps for lunch. Jack spends most of the time looking at Kent with a sour expression on his face. Swoops has the same face looking at Jack. It clues Kent in that maybe, it’s Swoops’ fucked up brand of protectiveness. 

So the next time, he invites only Jack.

Jack is displeased to see it’s only two of them. But Kent says,

“I’m going to fix things for the team. If you want your second cup in a row, you better go along.”

So they fake-friending it now. Like fake-dating, but as friends. They hang out where someone can take a picture of them and post it online. Kent takes Jack to Scraps’ movie night, and Jack even behaves himself there for once. They run together on weekends, and it’s the best way to do it. They are visibly spending time together without actual communication. It’s the best.

Swoops lays off Jack. But now, Whiskey becomes more aggressive against Jack in practices. And Kent has his suspicions what’s it about, but he also doesn’t _really_ believe it, and most of all he doesn’t want to touch it with a ten-foot pole. Thank you, no. 

He tells so to himself. But then one night, after a team dinner, Jack offers to stay behind to help with dishes. Whiskey immediately says that no, he can do it instead, and Jack can head home where Bittle is probably waiting for him as it is.

Kent, meanwhile, shows the rest of the team out, hoping that when he returns to the kitchen, there will be only one of them, or better yet, none. But, in fact, both of them stayed. One of them washing the dishes, the other drying, in a very passive-aggressive silence. He has to do something.

“It’s pretty late, Connor,” he says. “We have an early practice tomorrow. And it’s quite a ride to your place from here. Let me call you an Uber.”

“I can stay the night. You have plenty of space. And you can drive me to practice tomorrow.”

Jack clinks some dishes together with force. The feeling of impending disaster overcomes Kent.

“You don’t have any clothes here, and I don’t want to get up early enough to swing by your place,” he tries.

“That’s okay,” Whiskey says. “I can wear something of yours.”

Jack practically throws one of the plates in the sink.

“Jesus fuck, Zimms, what the hell,” Kent shoots, shooing him away. “Oh man, you broke it. Let me finish it myself.”

“I got it,” Jack shoves him away. “You can dry if you can get Whisk to leave. If you even _want_ to.”

Before Kent even knows how to react, Whiskey puts down the towel carefully. Oh-oh.

“It’s funny coming from _you_ ,” Whiskey says. “Could you believe, Kent, that only a few months ago he and his boyfriend invited Alexei Mashkov to stage _an intervention_. Because they didn’t think I should be friends with you.”

What the fuck.

Jack squares off against Whiskey. He doesn’t even look at Kent.

“ _What the fuck_ ,” Kent says, low. “You went to _Mashkov_ ? To gossip about me? Had a good talk, then? _Compared notes_?”

Yeah, he’s getting pretty loud, now.

“It’s not like that,” Jack says quickly, turning to Kent. He looks almost panicking. He looks like he _gives a shit_. Like, maybe the months he spent pretending to be Kent’s friends made him almost believe it himself. Kent for sure did.

“I want you out. Now.”

It’s quick, the switch. As it always was.

“Am I _getting in your way_?” Jack throws at him. “Can’t wait to be alone with your newest favorite player?”

“Oh my god!” Kent shouts. “Connor is what, eighteen? He’s practically a baby! I know you despise me more than anything else in this universe. But could you probably not insinuate I would be preying on a rookie?”

Especially when he’s _not out_ to this rookie. Well, depending on what Jack and Alexei _said_ about him to Whiskey.

He looks at Whiskey. Whiskey’s face seems to crumble. 

“A _rookie_ , huh,” Whiskey says. “ _Practically a baby_. And here I thought you treat me as an equal.”

“You _are_ ,” Kent says helplessly. “You’re the best player of your generation. You are maybe even better than me _and_ Zimms. And you are very put-together. I honestly respect the shit out of you. I love playing with you, and I hope we will be doing it for a long time, together. If we can just, all three of us, just _stop this bullshit_. We will be great together. Me, you and Zimms, we...”

“Is it always hockey with you? And _Zimms_?” Whiskey asks.

Kent has a flashback to when Tater asked him almost the same thing. Tater didn’t know about Jack by name then, though, didn’t know for sure there was someone. Still broke up with Kent.

“What _else_ is there?” Kent asks helplessly. “Both of you, _none_ of you can tell me honestly that there is _anything_ else.”

Whiskey furrows his brows. Jack says,

“ _I_ can. I have Bitty.”

“Then why are you _here_?”

Kent regrets it as soon as he said.

"No, I know. You are here because you want to make this right," he gestures between the three of them. "Because it affects how we are on the ice. And we can't afford it so close to..."

He doesn't get to finish. Jack steps forward and kisses him. Then he steps back, eyes full of horror. Kent is sure it matches perfectly the look on his own face.

But then Whiskey surges forward too, and kisses Kent, angry, demanding, _jealous_ , a little desperate. Kent kisses him back, just to calm him down a little. He knows what it's about. Whiskey is feeling insecure. To think about it, Whiskey got compared to Zimmermann a lot, too, after Aces drafted him the same season they got Jack. They play the same line, compete for points. And Whiskey does not have many close friends on the team. Kent is pretty much the only one. He feels the need to compete with him. Even in _this_.

And hell, maybe he’s _confused_ about things. Playing hockey through your adolescence doesn’t leave much room for exploration. 

Kent breaks the kiss gently.

As soon as he does, Whiskey has a panic attack. And Kent and Jack, together, calm him down. They breathe together, all three of them. 

After all of it is over, Kent escorts Whiskey to a guest room. Instructs him to take a shower, change, and go to sleep. He finds and leaves for Whiskey some clothes he can sleep in.

When he returns to the kitchen, he hopes Jack is gone already. But he isn’t.

“We’re _not_ talking about it,” Kent says. “Not now, not _ever_ . In fact? _Never happened_. And I hope as shit you won’t be telling anything to your boyfriend, my ex, your friends or whoever.”

“I can’t _not_ tell Bitty about it,” Jack frowns. “I kissed you. It’s cheating.”

“I don’t care about that,” Kent says. “Well, I _care_ . I would prefer to be the one who gets to decide who I am out to. Even if you are 100% sure you trust him. But I got a feeling this pass had already connected. No, I’m talking about _Connor_ , here.”

“Bitty already knows about him. Bitty was the one who told me. He walked in on Whisk playing tonsil hockey with some random guy in a club bathroom.” Jack’s tone is very judgemental. 

“I _can’t believe you_ ,” Kent says tiredly. “You can’t just say shit like this.”

“He already _kissed_ you!”

“So? _Swoops_ kissed me once on the lips after he scored off my pass. And he the straightest man I know. Sometimes things like this happen. It doesn’t _mean_ anything.”

“Oh, I think it does. It actually explains why Troy was so rude to me and Bitty.”

“Does it? Or maybe he’s, like, _my friend_ . I sometimes have those, who are just friends with me for _me_ , not because they want to _fuck me_ . I know it’s hard for you to believe. You never thought I was worth more than that, did you? And, for that matter, if all kisses mean _something_ , what the fresh hell was that?” Kent gestures between them.

Jack opens his mouth and closes it with a clink. Kent nods.

“Told you. So _get your mind out of the gutter_.”

“It didn’t look like it was nothing,” Jack continues stubbornly. “It looked like you were enjoying it.”

Kent crosses his hands on his chest.

“So it was a few years for me. _Sue_ me.”

“ _Don’t_ start anything with him.”

“I don’t see what business it is of…”

Jack, yet again, doesn’t get Kent to finish. He crowds Kent to the wall and kisses him. This time, it’s a proper kiss. With one hand in Kent’s hair, gripping it just the right side of painful, and the other smoothing the thumb on a strip of Kent’s naked skin, where his T-shirt meets the waistband of his sweats. 

When it’s over, Jack looks like he scored a goal.

“It won’t be fair to him,” he says. “Like it wasn’t fair to Tater. And it fucked up you and Tater enough, Aces had to trade him.”

Point well made, Jack goes home.

Jack freaks out on the way home. He has to sit in the driveway for a while before he can come inside. He sees lights in the kitchen, and he knows Bitty must have heard the car pull up. The longer he is here and not in there, the more suspicious it gets.

He just has to go and tell Bitty everything.

He goes inside. Bitty’s baking, of course. Bitty meets Jack with a smile, a kiss, and instructs him to wash his hands and go have a little snack before going to sleep.

When Jack gets back to the kitchen, Bitty asks finally.

“Why were you there for so long? Kent Parson didn’t give you a hard time, did he? Oh, _honey_ ,” he says when Jack isn’t quick enough to respond. “I will have words with him. I told you it’s a bad idea to allow him to get close to you again. Especially for a premise so ridiculous.”

“It’s not that,” Jack squeezes out of himself. Stops. Continues. “When the team was heading out, Whisk decided to stay behind to help with the cleanup.”

“And you didn’t want to leave him alone with Kent? _Honey_ , you’re just… So _sweet_ . But you need to think about yourself too. You know I worry about Connor as well, I _do_. But his behavior the last few months… It looks like he chose his side.”

Bitty hugs him. Now, Jack thinks, just tell him now.

“It’s still a bad idea,” Jack rasps. “He’s only nineteen. _Practically a baby_.”

“He’s the same age _I_ was then we started dating, silly. He’s an adult and he can make his decisions. Of course, their dynamics, Kent being _older_ , _richer_ , his _captain_ , more _experienced_ , no doubt. With a _history_ of sleeping with his teammates with _awful_ consequences… I can see why you are worried. But Connor isn’t _you_ , honey.”

“Yeah,” Jack says hoarsely. “We are nothing alike.”

His head is buzzing. He knows that even if he goes to sleep right now, it would be hard to actually fall asleep. He kisses Bitty softly, and then with a little more intention. Bitty reads his thoughts and smiles into the kiss.

They make love, and it’s _so good_. With Bitty, it’s the best sex Jack ever had with anyone. It’s never urgent to the point of being painful. It’s never scary. He never kissed Bitty in anger, or to shut him up, only if maybe playfully so. He never was so overcome with emotions after a simple kiss with Bitty that he wanted to cry. And those, he thinks, are all good, healthy things to want.

The next day, he’s out of the house as early as he can. He’s the first to the rink. Kent and Whiskey arrive together and are almost late. Jack recognizes the hoodie on Whisk.

It's soft and pink, and Kent wore it once for lunch with Jack, Swoops, and Scraps. Maybe he wore it more than once, because Carl recognizes it too and wolf-whistles.

"Parser, Whiskey, anything you wanted to _share_ with us? What _happened_ when we left yesterday?"

"Don't start," Kent rolls his eyes. "Whiskey stayed at my place because he had to have a lot of whiskey last night on account of his college-girl girlfriend breaking things off with him. Which you _would have known_ if you weren't a dick and people told you things."

It's a good lie. Reminds people that Whiskey had a girlfriend, which, at least, he _told_ people he did. And it paints Whiskey in a sympathetic light.

"Long-distance is a bitch," one of the older players claps Whisk on the shoulder. "Don't worry, we will find you another one in no time."

"Thanks. I rather focus on my game for now."

"That's the spirit!" Kent cheers.

And nobody talks about it anymore.

Jack follows Kent and Whisk with his eyes the whole practice. It doesn’t seem like there’s anything _changed_ between them. Who knows, maybe that wasn’t their _first_ kiss. Maybe Whiskey didn’t sleep in the _guest_ room.

Jack is unfocused, a little angry, so the practice sucks. Kent, face neutral, asks Jack to have a few words afterward. 

“Get over yourself,” he says threateningly. “Whatever _the hell_ is going on in your head, I don’t even know. Our roadie starts tomorrow, so you better get it together until then.”

“Did you get it together?” Jack fires back. “With Whisk?”

Kent grabs his shirt, looks around, and then hisses at Jack’s face.

“God, what is wrong with you?”

Jack bites him. On his lips. It ends up less a bite, though, and more… Making out. But the end result is - Kent’s eyes are dark, and his lips are so puffy and red. His hands clatch Jack very fiercely. 

“Don’t do it again,” Kent says. “I’m _warning_ you.”

Jack does it again.

Kent shoves him away. Jack’s back meets the wall, and it’s going to be a bruise. Kent looks like he wants to continue. Wants to take his _fist_ to Jack’s _face_.

“Should I call your parents again?” Kent says. “Because you’re _losing it_ , Zimmermann.”

Kent’s smart. It works so much better than a mere punch. Suddenly, Jack is not at all hard anymore. He drives home, thinking “how _dare_ he?” and “he _must_ be fucking Whisk then” and “ _when_ the hell did I get hard?” and “why did I _ever_ kiss him?”. He’s half-hard _again_ when he’s out of the car. He can barely wait for Bitty to come home.

They go on a roadie. He spends most of his nights hiding from everyone in his room, having video sex with Bitty, while somewhere downstairs, Kent and Whisk hang out at the hotel bar together, or maybe upstairs, at one of their suits.

Yeah. He’s losing it.

Kent tells himself that the second Cup is worth this bullshit. 

The day after the disastrous night between him, Jack and Whiskey, was the worst. He woke Whiskey up, then hastily retreated to the kitchen to make breakfast and coffee. Whiskey, when he showed up and sat down to eat, couldn’t meet his eyes.

They couldn’t be playing together if they couldn’t even look at each other, Kent reasoned, so he started to talk. He said that it’s okay if Whiskey feels confused. It’s totally normal. They play together a very tough, high-stakes sport. Adrenaline tends to turn things up to eleven. So.

Whiskey shoved his plate away and looked at him for the first time. He looked angry.

“Are you homophobic,” he asked, tone flat.

Kent sputtered.

“Because I heard things about being confused all my life,” Whiskey continued. “Not necessarily about me. But. People say this shit with a straight face. And it’s _bullshit_.”

“Is it you coming out to me?” Kent checked. “Because if it is, thank you for trusting me.”

“I _kissed_ you.”

“So? It means _fuck all_ in the long run. Jack kissed me too if you remember,” Kent noticed how Whiskey’s face darkened. “And he hates my guts.”

“It meant something,” Whiskey bit out. “For me.”

“Uh-huh. Care to share?”

“ _No_.”

“Okay. I could tell you what _I_ think, then.”

Whiskey gestures, _go ahead_.

“As I said. We play together. We are _good_ . It’s a great feeling. You are still young.” Kent continues, despite Whiskey’s snort. He is! They have, what, eight years difference? “And, _okay_ , I’m fairly attractive. You’re not exactly a social butterfly, so I’m probably the hottest person you see on a regular basis.”

“You become less so by the minute,” Whiskey mutters.

“Anyway. It all points up to, well, you crushing on me because, frankly, you don’t have any better options. I mean, doing what we do, it’s not like you can just do stuff. Like pick people up in a club and have sex with them in a bathroom. Or Grinder. Or whatever people do to hook up."

Whiskey's face darkened again when Kent mentioned the club bathroom thing, but when Kent finished his sentence, he mouthed along with the words.

" _Whatever people do_?"

Kent crossed his arms defensively.

"I have a lot of pressure put on me, I can't afford risks like that. I mean. Not that's a bad thing, being yourself, just it has to be done carefully. Like, maybe consider making them sign NDA first?"

"Is that why you fuck other hockey players?" Whiskey said.

It _wasn't_ like that but Kent wasn't about to tell his life story to Connor.

"Pretty much," he said instead. "But I don't know if I would recommend this. Tends to end badly."

"Is it why," Whiskey couldn't say the next word for a while, but then he prowled on. "Is it why you refuse to _fuck_ me?"

He grimaced when he was saying "fuck". See? Baby.

“ _Some_ of it, sure.” Kent noticed that Whiskey hunched again. Oh god, he’s going to give the kid a complex. He tried to be reassuring. “You are very fuckable. I mean, handsome. And you are great on the ice.” No, tell something else, or otherwise, he will think that playing hockey and being pretty is all that he is good for. “And, you know, I _like_ being around you. You are a great listener.” What? A great listener? You can do better, Kent. You must do better. “And smart. And a good person and not, like, _a dick_. Like Carly or Zimmermann.”

“Thanks,” Whiskey deadpanned. “I feel _so much better_. I’m going to go take a shower.”

“I will find you something to wear,” Kent promised, defeated. 

And he did. He gave Whiskey the best item of clothing he owned, the softest hoodie he had.

Whiskey still has it, by the way. Kent is not about to ask it back.

By chance, one of the away games they play is in Providence. It’s one of the games they lost. Tater yet again dropped his gloves and then dropped Kent on ice. Kent kinda deserved it this time too, but, now he thinks about it, maybe it was never about his style of play. He decides that he needs to talk it out, if only so maybe the next game they play, Alexei won’t be trying so hard to obliterate him.

All of Kent’s exes want Kent to die, that’s telling Kent something about himself. Like, he’s so right that he swore off of relationships forever. Or, at least, until he retires. Then his career is over, people can kill him all they want, but not before.

Whiskey has to be grateful Kent allowed him to dodge this particular bullet. Whiskey, though, took to ignoring Kent exactly as Jack does. So it’s maybe Kent who dodged something.

So, after the game, Kent refuses to go out with the team and instead texts Alexei. Sends him an address for a quiet place he scooped up through the Internet. Goes there. Waits a while. He probably won’t show, Kent thinks. Why would he?

But then Alexei does show up. He looks vary like maybe he expects the rest of the Aces to be there too, to beat him up. Or he’s conscious about the probability of them being recognized, and pictures of their clandestine meeting posted all other social media and Deadspin. 

“I’m sorry,” Kent says after they order.

It’s the only thing he can figure out to say. He still doesn’t really know what went wrong between them. He knows it was _him_ , Kent, who messed things up, he just doesn’t know _how_ . So he says _sorry_.

It works about as well as expected. Alexei crosses his arms on his chest, let’s hear it-esque.

“Why?”

“Why I am apologizing now?”

“I know why,” Alexei waves one hand. “Bitty talks to me. He said you are making fake-friends with Jack now. To look good. To play good. You don’t want _me_ to play against you good. You think if I’m not mad anymore, I will play worse. I _know_ you, Parsnip.”

He _does_ , as it turns out.

“Why are you saying sorry for?” Alexei clarifies.

Kent is at loss, and conveys it, talking with his hands.

“I don’t know. Everything. I was an asshole. I treated you badly. I didn’t tell Carly to shut his trap when he was running his mouth about, you know, _people_ and _stuff_.”

Alexei shakes his head.

“It’s all true. You are asshole. You did allow Carl to say vile things when you had to be an example. And you did treat me badly. You were _never there._ ”

“What do you mean,” Kent frowns before he could stop himself. The last thing he needs is to exacerbate their conflict. “I never stood you up. When you had that concussion in our first year, I basically moved in with you. And I never - I always listened when you wanted to tell me something, didn’t I?”

“But you never _asked_. You never were interested.”

“I didn’t want to step over your boundaries!”

“I never had any boundaries,” Alexei argues. “Not with you. It’s you, with boundaries. Walls. Giant ice walls. Never talk about you. Your family. Your past. What did you want for future. Because you did not want to share it with me. _Your body_ , that’s _one thing_ you were sharing with me.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Kent says. “I liked you. You made me laugh. You made me feel warm inside when things were good. When you kissed me first, it was like, oh _, maybe I could be happy again_ ? And I was. I _was_ . I never knew what to do to make you believe it. I _tried_ . I kissed you back, _always_ . I kissed you and hugged you and touched you because I wanted you to feel as good as you made me. But what you were saying, earlier? About me not _sharing myself_ ? That stuff wouldn’t make you feel _good_.”

“I should been the one who decides.”

“Or, maybe, you would have just dropped me much earlier, like a hot potato.”

“I wouldn’t do that. But we _won’t know_. I am seeing someone.”

It’s a surprise.

“Who? I mean, _that’s great_! Congratulations.”

“Still early to tell. It’s a woman. I know her through hockey.”

“A woman, huh. Good. I hope she will make you happy,” Kent doesn’t know what else to say. “You deserve it. I’m sorry I couldn’t be that for you.”

“It’s okay,” Alexei says, getting up. “I am happy when Falconers crash Aces. Like tonight.”

He smiles, though. And Kent smiles back.

Tonight, Bitty looks very excited when Jack calls. He always looks excited, of course, but tonight it feels like for more than their usual routine.

“I can’t believe it,” he says. “The _audacity_ of Kent Parson. _Honey_ , I am so sorry you have to play with him still. But only for a few months more, right? Have you talked with your agent yet? You should start looking at teams. We could go back to our friends in New York. Or, or! What if you played with _Tater_? It would be so great!"

No, he had not talked with his agent. He's unsure now if he wants to. _Yes_ , things with Kent are _a mess_ . But he plays his best hockey now. Besides. Would any other team want him? _Yes_ , he proved himself. If he gets the second Cup, it will be twice over. _But_. He doesn't want to think about it yet. Not before the Cup is again in his hands.

"Bits. Bitty. _Wait_. What's it about Kent?" he deflects.

“He asked Tater out for dinner. Can you _believe_ it?”

Jack bulks.

“No,” he says. “It doesn’t sound right. And Tater would never agree.”

“Oh, he did, if only just to tell him to fuck off in private. Tater’s with Vanessa now, you know, things are _so good_ between them. Does Kent keeps tabs on him, I wonder, or is it some kind of six sense thing. _My ex is happy without me, I must show up and mess things up for him_!”

“Kent doesn’t do that.”

“ _Of course_ he does. Remember all the awful things he told you at that party? Just before we got together?”

Jack hums. He doesn’t, not really. He was angry. Maybe afraid. Mostly, he thinks, angry. Kent just brings it out of him.

“Anyway,” Bitty says. “You played great! I’m sorry about your loss. You will get them next time!”

They chatter for a while, but the mood is strange. Usually, they are getting into it pretty much from the start, but not now. Bitty tries something, but Jack fails to answer on cue. In the end, Bitty sighs, then immediately smiles again and says cheerfully:

“It was a long day for you, I shouldn’t keep you up.”

It’s not what Jack wants. He doesn’t want to be alone now but he also doesn’t want to… Keep trying. He must be really tired. He signs off and lies down.

Only sleep doesn’t come. He thinks about Tater and Kent, now. Bitty was pretty sure about Tater not being interested in Kent anymore, but Jack is not so sure. Tater still targets Kent during games. And he accepted his invitation, didn’t he? That’s his first mistake. Even if he really isn’t interested, it all could change just after some time face to face with Kent, without anyone around. Kent does it with people. You could be mad at him, but if he gets you alone, and gets you mad even more, what can you do? It’s either deck him or kiss him, and Tater couldn’t be caught beating other players up off the ice.

But, Jack reminds himself, Tater has Vanessa.

But, Jack himself has Bitty. And yet.

Jack’s mind flashes to that night in Kent’s kitchen. He was pretty angry at Kent, fed up with his bullshit, so he kissed him. Would Tater do the same? The memory changes, and it’s Tater now who crowds Kent to the wall. He’s strong, he doesn’t let Kenny shove him away until Kent stops trying. Instead, Kent has trouble standing straight, he has to clatch Tater’s biceps, his leg goes up, trying to find traction. Tater helps, hoisting Kent in the air. Gripping his thighs. Kent’s hands are in his hair, now, pushing them closer together. Jack touches himself, and his eyes fly open. 

Yeah, he’s in the mood _now_. And, it’s too late to call Bitty back. He curses himself. There’s no way he’s getting any sleep like that. He’s too keyed up. He has to, just, take care of it himself. But consciously continuing fantasizing about his friend and his…about Kent, it’s not something he’s comfortable with. 

He sighs, and throws some clothes on, and goes downstairs to the hotel bar. He won’t be drinking. Just, being around people. Maybe it will distract him, bore him enough so he would become sleepy.

To his surprise, he’s not the only one from the team there. Whiskey is there too, drinking tea, by the looks of it. He looks morose. He probably hates tea.

It would be rude if he just walked past him. They don’t have the greatest relationships as it is. So he asks if he could sit with him.

Whiskey looks up at him with surprise. But he masks it quickly and nods. They sit in silence for a few minutes, before Jack’s non-alcoholic drink arrives. Then Whiskey suddenly says,

“I came by Kent’s room. He wasn’t there. I know he’s not with the team. I thought he was with you.”

Jack shakes his head, slightly discomfited. 

“He’s out having dinner with Tater.”

“No,” Whiskey says. “He wouldn’t have agreed to it.”

“ _He’s_ the one who asked Tater out,” Jack snaps. Who does Whisk think he is? Acting like he _knows_ Kent, better than Jack, even. He doesn’t know _shit_ about Kent that _Kent_ doesn’t want him to know. “It’s what Kent does. You think what you and him have is something special?”

Whiskey leans forward.

“Do _you_?” It’s obvious Jack pissed him off. Well, Jack didn’t say a word that was untrue. “Because what the fuck it was about, kissing him? Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Jack shoots right back.

Whiskey looks back at the cup. He looks very gloomy. 

“She really did break up with me. Earlier, before New Year. I never told anyone about it except Kent.”

Now Jack feels bad for him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Kent runs his mouth sometimes. So you better not say anything to him if you want it to be a secret.”

Whiskey flinches but then recovers.

“He never told anyone about you, though.”

“He did,” Jack snaps. “Just, not about _us_. Because that would out him too. He told other things. It almost cost me hockey.”

“Is that why you hate him?” Whiskey asks. “Even though you still want him.”

“I don’t.” Jack’s throat is parched. He sips his drink and continues more sure. “I don’t want anything to do with Kent.”

“Is that what you told Bitty? _“I kissed Kent because I don’t want anything to do with him?”_ ”

Yes, now Jack is back to thinking Whiskey is an asshole.

Whiskey snorts when Jack doesn’t reply.

“I thought so. But you know what? Kent doesn’t want you. In fact, you and Mashkov are the reason he won’t ever be involved with other hockey players.”

“Is that what helps you sleep at night?”

“It’s what Kent told me himself.”

“Because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“How considerate of him! I thought you considered him _a literal piece of shit_ though, seeing how you talk about him and treat him.”

Jack didn’t even notice how they started to speak louder. And he doesn’t notice when Kent appears at his right, putting a hand heavily on Jack’s shoulder.

“Gentlemen,” he says, smiling. This smile means _“I would take a skate blade to your throat if there wasn’t public around us.”_ Oh, well, _fuck him too_. “I paid your tab. Please, follow me.”

Jack's knee-jerk response is to tell him to fuck off. He quashes it because they are already attracting glances. Thank god for the bar's atmospheric lighting.

So they follow him. They are all silent until they get to their floor. When they get out of the elevator, Whisk tries to head to his room, but Kent stops him and nods his head at the opposite direction.

He takes them to his room.

The minute the door is closed, Kent takes away his tie. Opens up a few buttons on the shirt, so his collarbones are visible. He turns away from them, takes off his jacket slowly, rolls up his sleeves.

He breathes in deeply and turns back to them. His eyes are pale. He's beyond pissed.

"Who. Do I have to blow. So you would stop behaving as _fucking morons_ ? Is it _you_ , Zimmerman? _Whisk_ ? _Both at the same time_?"

Jack's breath hitches. He sneaks a glance at Whiskey. He's even worse. Like a deer in a headlight.

"I mean. What else can I do. I thought we talked things through, Whisk. And, Zimmermann, I expected I can at least rely on your desire to win. Because right now? We are not winning. We are _losing_. And yes, it’s a team game. But you can’t honestly tell me what your play is not affected by…” he makes a vague circle with his index finger, “Whatever this is? Can you?”

Jack and Whiskey both keep their mouth shut.

Kent sighs, and rubs his face, and tells them, not even looking at them anymore like he’s sick of them.

“Just, _please_ . Keep it together for a few months more. We get the Cup, Jack gets signed by whatever team he wants. Connor, you continue on your path to getting A when Swoops retires, then C when _I_ retire, if one of us isn’t traded before that. Just. _Please_. No one here needs a gay scandal following them around.”

Jack crosses his hands on his chest.

“You know what I mean, Zimms,” Kent says reluctantly. “I didn’t mean your _whole thing_. It went great. You chose a great moment. It was a great kiss. Very romantic and wholesome. Couldn’t have done it with a better person too. I’m glad, and I’m proud, and I am sure we will be back to hating each other no matter what team you end up in no time. Let's just keep a lid on it for now, yeah?"

"No," Jack says. "I don't want to ' _keep a lid on it_ '. I can deal with you. I don't have to take _his_ bullshit on top of it, too."

Kent looks at Whiskey.

"Whiskey?"

"It's not bullshit," Whiskey says stubbornly.

"What do you guys want, then?! You want to quarrel and play like shit together rather than being adults who play professional sports, you know, _professionally_ . Fine. But it's going to cost _me_ my first chance at the Cup in _years_ . And that's _not_ fine. So tell me, you two. What will make things okay between us?"

 _“Who do I need to blow?”_ plays again in Jack’s memory, like a broken record.

Kent must read something on his face, because he says, pointing his finger at Jack.

“No. Get the fuck out.”

“What?” Whiskey says. And Jack feels strangely pleased, because Jack and Kenny still get each other like no other.

But then Whiskey looks at Jack, trailing his gaze to an unfortunately very visible bulge, and then back at Kent.

“ _No_ ,” Kent repeats, now pointing at Whiskey.

Whiskey shrugs.

“Could work.”

“ _Uh-huh_ ,” Kent nods. “All this will do is blow it all up completely. Not to mention, I _don’t want to_.”

“You _don’t_ ?” Jack says. _Sure_ he doesn’t. “You told me yourself, it has been a few years since Tater.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Kent shoots. “Both of you. How am I the one who’s rational one here? It _sucks_ , and I don’t want to be!”

“That’s kind of your job,” Whiskey says with a completely straight face. “You’re the Captain.”

Kent groans, sitting on the bed and putting his head in his hands.

“Okay,” he says. “ _Fine_.”

Fine?

“But!” Kent says. _There’s always a “_ but _” with him_ . “Not now. Only _after_ we get the Cup. We _don’t_ , then _I_ don’t. We _do_ , well...”

It’s _so_ Kenny. And people say _Jack_ is a hockey robot. At least, he doesn’t proposition anyone in exchange for getting their best game on ice. 

Yeah. He just the one who holds it hostage in exchange for sex. He doesn’t find the situation all that hot anymore. 

But Whiskey says,

“Okay,” and reaches his hand out to Kent to shake on it.

Kent looks at the hand, then at Whiskey, with suspicion, but takes it in his to shake. And Whiskey uses it to tug him up and to closer. He kisses Kent, confidently, like he already won, like Jack is not there anymore. But it’s _because_ Jack’s here, he thinks. Because when they come up for air, Kent’s eyes a little glazed and a lot blue, Whiskey sneaks a glance at Jack, squinting at him.

Then Whiskey leaves without any word. 

Kent sits on the bed again, then closes his eyes, and falls down. Jack should leave him be. But he still _has to ask_.

The bed dips slightly when he places his knee there, hovering above Kent. Kent just squeezes his eyes shut even more closely.

“What _are you doing_ , Kenny,” Jack asks.

“I don’t even know anymore,” Kent murmurs. “You?”

Jack can’t help it. His lips touch Kenny’s. Then his chin. Then his neck. Then his collarbone. 

“I _mean_ it,” Kent grips his hair. Jack looks up and sees that his eyes are open. He looks so lost now. “You have a boyfriend. I don’t think we should do it.”

“You’re just saying it because you _need_ to say it,” Jack says bitterly. “So _I_ am a bad guy here.”

Kent puts his hands flat on the covers. He closes his eyes again.

“Goodnight,” he says with an air of finality.

Jack leaves.

Kent feels very sleazy every time Whiskey passes to Zimms so he scores, or vice versa, and then one or both of them seek him out on the ice. _See_ , Cap, _we made it_.

The worst of it, he can’t even talk about it. He is pretty sure no matter how much Swoops and Scraps love him, they won’t ever respect him for putting himself in a situation like this. Swoops warned Kent off even from Alexei, and Kent didn’t listen. And was sorry for it after they broke up and things started to turn to shit on the ice.

But it’s the _opposite,_ with Whiskey and Zimms. They’re playing better. They’re _playing their hearts out_ ! And it’s fine. Jack probably won’t even go through with it. He will be busy with his new contract. And Whiskey, maybe he will find someone in the meantime. He doesn’t think that Whiskey’s like Jack, the need to fuck with Kent overweights everything else. Whiskey is just closeted and horny. So if it even _does_ happen, it will be one time _only_ , and then Whiskey gets it out of his system and realizes that Kent isn’t _all that_ . Or _anything at all_ , really. And he finds himself someone. Maybe a cute blonde girlfriend. Maybe even a brunette. He will have his pickings after they win the Cup.

Because it looks like they will.

And then, they _do_.

It’s the scariest day in Kent’s life.

They are all on the ice, the Cup passing between their hands. Whiskey never smiled so wild before. His parents are there. And Jack’s boyfriend. They’re hugging, and Kent can’t see Jack’s face, because after the Cup passed between them, Jack didn’t look at him since.

And then, the press conference.

“How does it feel,” a reporter asks. Vanessa something, he doesn't remember. He’s pretty sure _Jack_ does, because he was the one to call on her. “To be the first gay player who won two Stanley Cups?”

“I’m not,” Jack says, and everything inside Kent just got in a blender and Jack turned it on. He almost doesn’t hear the rest of Jack’s answer because of the blood rushing in his ears. Jack adds after a short pause. “I’m not gay. I think I identify as bi.”

“And anyway, there were probably others, they just weren’t out,” Swoops adds fast. “So it’s the responsibility of every team, and every player, and every fan and anyone who watches at home and then goes on the Internet and says things, to create an environment where it’s possible for more people to live their life to the fullest. I mean, it sure did wonders for Jack’s game. He has two Cups in a row.”

Then someone asks Whiskey a menial question, something about how does it feel to win the Cup his first season. Whiskey’s reply almost word to word what Kent himself said. Glad to have an opportunity, proud to be a part of the franchise. Excited about _the future_.

Kent feels as though someone electrocuted him when he hears those words. Whiskey looks at him just as he’s saying it, and the meaning is obvious to exactly three people in this room.

Kent really regrets his life choices right now.

What he doesn't regret, it's renting a mansion, the same one they celebrated the first cup. There's a big crowd, and Kent is used to crowds, so that's saying something.

He drinks champagne from the cup, making sure that he spills more than swallows. He's without his jacket at this point, so the shirt is clinging to his chest. It's sticky, and not very pleasant. He catches Whiskey's eyes across the room. Based on the total lack of expression, either he finds it as gross as Kent does, or the complete opposite.

Thank god Jack is somewhere... Not here. Kent doesn't know what Jack told Bittle if anything, but Bitty never really liked him after the first fifteen minutes after they met. So it's hard to say if Bitty makes sure to be with him in the same room as less as possible because he's protective, or jealous. He hopes it's the former. He hopes Jack sees that, and so he won't make Kent complicit in ruining Jack's life for a second time.

The other option is for Kent to woman up and tell Jack no. Ha, like it’s ever going to happen.

But it did happen. Kent did say no to Jack successfully. In the kitchen, in the locker room, in the hotel room. Didn’t he? Or was it just Jack stopping pushing?

He doesn’t have to do it. It’s dumb how relieved he is just when this thought appears in his brain. He doesn’t have to do it if he doesn’t want to. It makes him feel almost dizzy with relief. He sways on his feet and announces to the room that he needs to go change.

He goes to the room he claimed as his. Slips off his shirt. A door opens and closes behind him. Strong hands come up to his waist, pull him into the other’s body. Kent feels that Whiskey already is hard. He closes his eyes and lets him kiss his temple, gentle, then to bite slightly on his earlobe, shit, it always gets Kent. The hands continue to roam around his body, to the chest, thankfully not touching his nipples (he hates that), and then back to his stomach, lower, while the lips are working on his neck.

Kent catches the hands when they touch the belt buckle.

“We don’t have to do it. There’s a lot of people out there, you can have anyone tonight. It would be better for you. You deserve someone who will be, I don’t know. Emotionally available to you. Good. And I’m not that. Ask Tater. Ask Jack.”

The hands are off him right that second. Kent immediately feels cold. He turns back, hugging himself for warmth, to find his shirt and put it back on.

And he sees that this whole time, Whiskey was standing with his back to the door, palming himself through his suit, and behind Kent was Jack.

Who looks like Kent struck him. Then, like he always does when Kent hurts him, he clenches his jaw and hits back.

“I don’t want you to be emotionally available,” Jack says coldly. “I never wanted that from you. Sometimes I doubt you can feel human emotions. And this,” he gestures between them. “Is not what it is.”

Kent crosses his arms.

“So enlighten me, then. What the fuck this is. Because I sure as hell don’t know.”

Jack grates his teeth.

“It’s you manipulating people all over again.”

Kent gasps.

“Who did I manipulate? You? Whiskey? Hey, Connor, do you feel very manipulated right now?”

“We won the Cup for you,” Jack says. At the same time as Whiskey says,

“I feel like we should be over this.”

“Excuse me?” Kent turns back to Jack. “The team won the Cup. I am also, if you remember, a part of this team. The only thing I made you two do is to stop sabotaging it!”

“You’re the one sabotaging it!” Jack says. “You toyed with Whiskey, instead of letting him down gently.”

“And you? I, what, seduced you? Turned you away from your loving doting boyfriend? With my Parsonine wiles?”

“Don’t talk about Bitty,” Jack threatens.

“Why not? He’s here somewhere, isn’t he? Well, not here-here, I doubt he would have allowed you to…”

“He knows,” Jack snaps. “He knows, I told him as soon as we got back from that roadie. He was pissed, he said I was crazy, he warned me that this is just one of your mind games, just to get what you want.”

“When the fuck ever I played mind games!” 

“When you told my parents about drugs!” Jack shoots back.

And oh, that makes sense, except it totally fucking doesn’t.

“Because you thought it would make them forbid me to even touch a hockey stick. But you thought wrong. We moved, and I played the rest of the Juniors without you, and I went to the draft, without you, and I played without you and I won without you for so long, I can’t stand the thought of doing it again!”

“What?” Kent repeats, dumbly. 

Jack misinterprets him. 

“Yes. I’m re-signing with Aces.”

“No, you’re not,” Kent snorts. “And I’m not talking about it. I don’t care. You think I still care? Who the fuck do you think you are? No, you think, you thought all this time that I told your parents so you would drop out? Are you… Fuck. Get out.”

“Didn’t you?”

“Fuck you! Fuck you. Do you even know, what it was like? Fuck you. You don’t. Everyday, it was like. Like my dad all over again. You were killing yourself, Zimms. You were killing me. Your parents needed to know! You needed help! And I was right! You got it, you got to NHL…”

“I was the second pick, because now I didn’t seem dedicated enough. Because I played worse with a new team. Because there were rumors…”

“I went first because Vegas needed a left-winger! And you are a center! You fucking absolute moron!”

“You’re lying!”

“I have GM on my speed dial, should we call him? Or, I forgot, he’s here somewhere, let’s fucking find him!”

“Can you please!” Whiskey shouts. “Shut the fuck up!”

He adds, when they do, a lot more quietly, “You’re going to attract attention.”

Whiskey looks surly. Like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands on a date and it pisses him off. Shit. Kenny and Zimms, going at it again, completely ignoring other people. Kent feels a pang in his chest.

Whiskey shouldn’t look like that, not on the night of his first Cup win.

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “Come here.”

Jack frowns, and Whiskey shoots Kent a glance with raised eyebrows.

“Your martial spat kinda ruined the mood,” he says.

“That’s why I’m sorry,” Kent says and takes a step forward. “And, you know, I meant it, everything I said when I thought it was you.”

Whiskey fights a smirk.

“I know, and it was all very noble of you,” he says with all the seriousness he can muster, from the looks of it. He takes a step forward too. “I would prefer to fuck you, though.”

Kent feels the heat in the solar plexus. He’s aware that Jack’s breathing is heavier now.

“Yeah?” he says, “I don’t think I promised you that.”

Whiskey steps even closer and strokes his thumb across Kent’s lower lip.

“That’s okay,” he says softly. “I thought about it for a long time, and it feels kind of sleazy if you’re only doing it because we made you promise it.”

Kent can’t help but laugh at it. 

“Fine,” he says. “Alright. What the hell. Zimms,” he looks at Jack. “You’re in?”

Jack looks back at him.

“I’m not sure,” he says. His brows furrow slightly. “You meant it? You only wanted to help? It wasn’t because you wanted to go first?”

Kent shakes his head, feeling tired and old again.

“Then,” Jack says, “I don’t think so. I was so angry at you all the time. It made me want to do things to you. And I don’t feel angry anymore.”

Whiskey snorts.

“And who’s bullshitting now?” he says. “You didn’t want to fuck Kent because you were angry. When you’re angry, you want to make people feel pain, and not, you know. Orgasm.”

“It would have been the best way to hurt him,” Jack says curtly. But then he looks back at Kent, he doesn’t seem sure anymore.

Kent shrugs.

“Maybe,” he says. “But, you know what? I don’t think it will, anymore. If you’re not angry now. And if you and your boyfriend came to some, I don’t know, agreement. Open relationships. Or, you’re poly now? I knew there was something going on between him and Tater.”

“What?” Jack asks. “No. What about them? No, nevermind. It’s not that. We… broke up. Kind of. We are still living together. And we’re friends. And if everyone asks, we still are in love. Because, you know. Bitty said, we’re the first openly gay couple in NHL. It would look bad. Not only for me, for everyone.”

"That's dumb," Kent says. "And it's me saying it, who once offered a blowjob to his lineys to keep them in line."

"What will you do if Eric meets someone?" Whiskey asks. "I wouldn't be able to live with you and not be horny all the time."

"Anything you need to confess to Jack?" Kent asks him.

"Um," Jack says.

"Anything _you_ want to add?" Kent asks Jack. "I mean, I'm not against it. Should have known your animosity was just foreplay and sexual tension."

"No, no," Jack says. "I mean, not a _no_ to this new thing. Though I think we just pissed each other off because we both wanted you. But I meant, we’re still sleeping together.”

Kent is speechless.

“So you’re living together, telling everyone you’re together, and sleeping together,” Whiskey says. “But you’re not together _how_?”

Jack crosses his arms.

“We just aren’t.”

“Well,” Kent says. “According to what you said to me once, after the first time we played against each other, we were never together. So I’m not sure how much I trust your assessment.”

Jack frowns.

“We never defined our relationships.”

“Duh! We never made each other friendship bracelets either, we were still friends.”

Whiskey looks pained.

“Can we, just for the next half an hour, not talk about _Bittle_ , or _your past_ , or anything _else_ mood ruining?”

“I don’t know,” Kent says honestly. “Because for me it’s kinda already done. You guys?”

Jack shakes his head. Whiskey moves his hips so Kent feels first hand just how much his mood is not ruined.

Kent is still dubious. He looks at Jack.

“Can you do that thing with the ear again?”

“I don’t know,” Jack says softly. “ _Can_ I?”

“ _Please_ ,” Kent says, rolling his eyes and smirking. “Do that thing with the ear.”

“And what about me?” Whiskey asks, when Jack hugs Kent again from behind, the heat radiating through his shirt, and, oh. There’s that thing with the ear.

“ _Kiss_ me,” Kent says.

And Whiskey _does_.


End file.
